


The Captain and The Lieutenant

by highinfibre, OdioEtAmo



Series: In The Aftermath and Companion Pieces [3]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, historical fiction - Freeform, the captain splashes out and makes a friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highinfibre/pseuds/highinfibre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdioEtAmo/pseuds/OdioEtAmo
Summary: It's 1943, and when neither love nor war feels fair it's easy to lose oneself in duty. But even in twilit times, there remains to be found a friend.
Relationships: The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: In The Aftermath and Companion Pieces [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728412
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. A Notable Exception

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In The Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774181) by [OdioEtAmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdioEtAmo/pseuds/OdioEtAmo). 



Time had passed since the Captain had, seasoned by combat and seasalt, returned to English shores. As far as his higher ups were concerned, he’d had more than enough time to reacclimatise and reset. But concern was a means more tightly rationed than the essentials, and this bout of tiredness was something Theodore couldn’t quite shake. It had seeped into his very bones. A dense quagmire, determined to submerge him in its depths. 

And, truly, he was in the thick of it. 

He was amongst hundreds of men, the biggest military gathering that he had seen in a while. Green bled into olive green, the many denizens of Button House training and interacting, with a sense of affability that had long since remained lodged in the back of Theodore’s throat. Even as he stood amongst them they seemed distant, out of reach. A background noise, destined to remain just outside his eyes’ dull glaze. 

He and his men had been summoned to the grand country estate for his men to recieve tutelage on the maintenance and care of Churchill Tanks, the higher ups choosing to specialise them again for the umpteenth time this year. He would have complained, had it not been a good sight cheerier than the combat training they had received. At least they could receive their instruction somewhere with fair scenery for once. But no amount of natural beauty could assuage the work that needed to be done and, unfortunately, being a Captain meant more than just watching demonstrations of tank locomotion.

The clock struck eleven, signalling the other duties that Theodore had to attend to. He excused himself from the room quietly, so as to not disturb his men. Their focus was on the tanks alone, and Theodore would loathe to drag them away from it. It was enough of a shame that _he_ had paperwork to take care of. He would slowly trex through his piles of reports, requests and God knows what else, giving each the attention required, signing dutifully on the dotted line. The unread notes he had received from the lecture no doubt calling to him as he did so. Sadly, they were his last priority, and he would probably have to save them for his bedtime reading. So he hurried away. No attention was spared for the paintings, or the faded wallpaper of the corridors that held them. Best to just get on with things. He could consider devote thought to his aesthetic opinions only when he was off duty.

But the wicked did not rest, and so neither could His Majesty’s forces. One workload was swiftly replaced by another, often dwarfing the size of its predecessor; Theodore was not left wanting for things to do. Not with the careful eye he had to keep focused on his men taking up the remainder of his time. The days bled into each other, fused seamlessly with the fog in his brain. It threatened to overtake him before sleep could and, in truth, was rarely avoidable. Even his best efforts to push on left remnants clinging to his peripherals. It simply became familiar, as all things do with time, and could be stored comfortably in his subconscious. It would have its moment, but today would not be it. 

After all, there was still work to be done. 

His latest task saw him knocking upon the office door of one Captain Phillips. It wasn't an urgent matter- another unit had received a shipment of specialised pistols destined for his own boys - but he was still responsible for it. And he would be damned if those issue numbers didn’t match up exactly as they ought. 

“Captain Phillips?” He demanded, as no answer manifested. He could tell the room was occupied, the ill concealed sound of raised voices made that quite clear, but he refused on principle to reschedule. Theodore did not have the time to return later for an errand such as this! The fact that the other Captain was (in some technicalities) his junior clearly had no connection to his rancor.

“It’s Captain Rosenbaum, I need to speak to you!” His voice echoed through the bustling hallway.

The door swung open just as Theodore was about to knock again, and he just narrowly avoided knocking rather insistently upon Captain Phillips’ lapels. He could not help but notice that his office was a great deal nicer than his own.

“Of course!” Phillips responded. His voice boomed louder than Theodore had anticipated, perhaps on account of the sheer volume of tawny moustache it had to be heard through. He seemed all the world like a rather sullen lion. “My lieutenant was just leaving.” 

“Oh, was I?”

Theodore’s head was turned. 

To say he’d noticed Phillips’ Lieutenant would be inaccurate, just as it would to suggest the man was imposing his presence upon him. One’s gaze stayed with him despite how casually he propped his narrow frame against the wall, compelled to keep listening despite the light nature of his tone. 

His arms had remained folded even as Theodore had entered - an action considered improper at best - and it hardly seemed he’d  _ tried  _ to make his hair presentable. Yet his gaze, fern green and sharp as a whip, had not wavered for any of Phillips’ bluster. His expression became no less steely.

It could not escape Theodore’s attention that he dwarfed both of by several inches. It did not escape Thedore’s attention that he was rather handsome, either, though that was a detail Theodore rarely let slip past him. 

“Well,” Theodore said, neatly dispersing the cloud of argument that fizzled between them. “this won’t take long.” 

“Then there shan’t be much for me to interrupt?” The Lieutenant served his question with a shrug and a grin. His gaze did not waver. “Do forgive me, Phillips - I’d rather like to hear what Captain Rosenbaum has to say.”

If Theodore were willing to spare much time for little things like amusement, he could have garnered a great deal of it from watching Phillips contend with his outspoken junior. 

The Phillips in question, had either man cared enough to ask, could not have said the same. He showed enough complaint through the vein in his forehead; it had been pulsing quite enthusiastically for the past minute and a half and, much like his Lieutenant, had no immediate plans to stop. A more masterly Captain would have sent the man out. As it was, Phillps’ patience was swiftly thinning.    
**  
** “Oh, for-” Phillips sighed, his moustache fluttering under the force of his sigh. “Do you  _ need _ something, Captain Rosenbaum?”

“Hmm, yes, quite.” Theodore nodded, detachedly. “Your men have been receiving new weapons designated for my division, and while I’m sure more will arrive in time, I rather need them returned. By tomorrow morning, if possible. I’m sure that won’t cause you too many problems.” 

“All the boxes we received were labelled for my division I’m afraid, Captain Rosenbaum. I can appreciate that your division may be in need of proper arms training, but specialised units shouldn’t expect priority treatment here. If you think there’s been some sort of _ mistake _ I’m afraid you need to appeal higher up.” Phillips responded with relish, and all the airs of a man who cared far too much about interdepartmental politics for Theodore’s liking. The Lieutenant’s, too, if his unrestrained eye roll were anything to judge by. Smarmy little man.

Theodore bristled. “Well, if you can explain to me what on earth your division would want with non-standard, Royal Engineer issue handguns, I’d be happy to leave the issue in your capable hands.” 

“Phillips, I  _ hate _ to ask this in front of our new Captain.” The Lieutenant intoned. He was nonchalant despite his grin, having stood to his full height, and meandered his way over to Phillips’ desk. “But did you read the entire label?”

Phillips shot his Lieutenant a truly venomous look.

“Only,” He continued, coming to loom absently on the outskirts of the exchange. ”there’s been an influx of new divisions as of late.” 

“I suppose there may have been some mistake.” He turned to Theodore, giving his back to his amused junior. “Though it’ll need time to be properly verified.” 

“A lot more technicalities to look over,” The Lieutenant continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. His tone was sharper, now. Had there been any pretences of patience before, it had certainly been lost. “and resources to allocate, Captain. I’m sure nobody would want to see this division refusing to cooperate with our lot,  _ Captain _ . It’d look rather ugly, don’t you think? Captain.”

Theodore glanced at him, glad that his moustache concealed his deep desire to smirk. Good lord, the man was impertinent, but pleasingly so; it was of great personal benefit to his standing. He was only glad he had no obligation to reprimand the man.

“Dixon _. _ ” Captain Phillips spat, looking rather red in the face. “Stand down. Should I need your ‘input’, I’ll ask for it.” 

“As I was about to say,” Theodore cut in. “I’m sure there’s no need for any inflammatory accusations. I’ll receive those guns back first thing tomorrow, I’m sure.” He smiled, with all the air of a man making a veiled threat and getting away with it, which seemed to amuse the Lieutenant more than enough. 

“Of course.” Phillips replied. “I’ll have Lieutenant Dixon see to it personally.” 

“As you wish.” Lieutenant Dixon gave a salute cheerful enough to seem uncharacteristic. “My pleasure, even. I can certainly make sure everything is being run properly!”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Theodore nodded at him, accepting his salute. It should be rather enjoyable to have him around, provided he himself was not in receipt of the man’s ire. “I’m sure we can coordinate everything between us. Now since that’s settled, I’ll intrude on you no longer.”

He glanced around with satisfaction at the two men he was leaving behind as he opened the door back to the corridor. Behind Lieutenant Dixon’s head a clock could just be seen on the far wall, slipping quietly past the mark of twelve. “Good afternoon.” 

He closed the door behind him and strode away triumphantly to the beat of heated conversation reigniting in his wake. For the first time that day, he looked outside, and noted to himself the sunlight that radiated in. It was, on measure, a lovely day. 

* * *

Dinner was a grand affair, and it owed that entirely to the room it was held in. The place felt fit to serve a King. A feat it had once achieved, if the Lord of the house was to be believed. Light walls and rich, wine red curtains made the space feel much larger than it had any right to, the York stone floors giving it a slight medieval flair. It could almost make one nervous, wondering how long it could take before a careless private might mark the paint, or scuff one of the whitewashed pillars that framed the room.

Alas, needs must, and such niceties were ignored in the wake of utilising every spare inch one could. Benches took leg to leg, crammed in tightly amongst mismatched tables and dining chairs alike. A separate space was set aside for all the officers, though some preferred to mingle, mixing in with privates and a few warrant officers dotted about the place.Theodore himself preferred to take meals in his office where he could, but work had gone abnormally quickly that afternoon; there were precious few reasons to keep him there tonight. 

The packed dining hall made him feel ever so slightly anxious. He had too much choice, and too few friendly faces looked back at him. Just officers with whom he had only a working relationship, or his own men, upon whom forcing his own company would feel unkind and a trifle desperate. It made him wish all the more that a few more of his contemporaries had survived the retreat from France. If he were a man like his Freddie, he would not have devoted a single thought to such a little matter, but he was not, and never would be. He regarded the somewhat watery dish of stew and bread in his hands, and made a slow approach to the officers table, silently wondering if it was too late to retreat. 

Two corporals got up from the table together, still engrossed in conversation and Theodore made for the empty space, the desire to sit alone calling out to him very strongly. 

As fate would have it, there was one voice stronger to capture his attention.    
  
“Captain Rosenbaum!” A swift glance over revealed it to belong to that Lieutenant Dixon. He bore a lopsided grin, one far warmer than the one he’d donned last, and made a welcoming gesture to the empty seat across from him. 

Theodore would take that invitation very gladly indeed. With one final look to the officers’ table, he changed course, sitting himself down unobtrusively between two men engaged in different conversations. He came face to face with Dixon once more. 

“I’m usually far less defiant.” He stated. It was as though no time had passed since their previous encounter. “ _ Well _ .”

The man to his right snorted, and Lieutenant Dixon made a face.

“Lay off, Collins - what I mean to say, is that I am perfectly willing to follow decent orders. I do my job well. Should be able to see everything runs smoothly on your end soon enough.” 

Theodore nodded. “I’m sure you’ll have everything running shipshape.”

“Naturally.” The Lieutenant offered his hand. “Oscar, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here until today.”

“I’d be surprised if you had.” Theodore admitted, with some vague trace of humility. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to come down in person.” ‘Nor the inclination’, he omitted to say. Ah, but where were his manners?

“Captain Theodore Rosenbaum.” He responded, shaking Oscar’s hand over the table, feeling it firm and cool in his own, and without the need to make the greeting into a power play with use of force. A good thing too; Theo would hate to have gone through all this to spill his fish stew. 

“Well it’s excellent to officially meet you, Theo.“ He replied. This newfound nickname manifested easily, as though he’d been introduced by nothing else. Oscar sat back a little, wincing in time with the slight bang that came from his end of the table. 

Theodore raised an eyebrow at how quickly he’d been demoted from ‘Captain’ to ‘Theo’ and, while he wasn’t quite officious enough to complain about it, it certainly took him by surprise. 

“And you too, Dixon.” He agreed, making a somewhat last ditch attempt to keep the barriers of rank in place between the two of them. He regarded the man, noting the ease with which he sat, bashed knee excluded, and the familiarity with which he seemed to speak to just about everyone. “How long have you been stationed here?” He asked, with something between politeness and an urgent need to explain the informality. 

“Since the end of last year. Around Christmas time, actually, my Ruth was delighted. And exasperated, actually, but I still maintain that it was undeserved. ” Dixon idly picked at his food as he spoke, periodically gesturing with his fork to illustrate a point. “She should really know what to expect from me, after all”

The more that Dixon spoke, the more soft his expression became. The smile brought forth was the type that took the entire face to make. 

“I would ask you the same, Theo,” he continued. “But I  _ was  _ there when you all arrived.”

“Indeed.” Theodore was watching Dixon’s hand now, having gained an awareness of the little golden band around his ring finger, light reflecting off the inset writing. Oscar fiddled with it as though in response, unconsciously using his free thumb to twist it back and forth. It was clearly worn with a great deal of love. “We’re set to stay here for a month, perhaps more depending, so I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.” 

“I’m set to stay here indefinitely, so I daresay you shall. That is, unless I finally do reach the end of Phillips’ wits.” The mention of his Captain’s name came with a very automatic, very heavy roll of the eyes. 

“Good lieutenants are hard to come by, he should know that.” Theodore snorted, after making thoroughly sure that Phillips was not at dinner with them. “More fool him if he forgets. Getting new officers trained is a nightmare.”

“Oh, he’s extremely aware.” Oscar grins. A new glint comes to his eyes. “Not in the least because I often remind him. I daresay my being a good Lieutenant is the only reason I’m still in the army at all.” 

He chuckled, as though sharing a private joke with himself. “If I’m to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure how he made Captain in the first place.” Dixon then leant forward some, his voice lowering just a touch. “Have had worse, though.” 

Theodore stiffened, as he realised how quickly they had fallen into dangerous talk. The sort of thing he would have reprimanded any of his boys for, had he heard them. Though he supposed that such concerns should be arranged when they were truly had. Still, he was almost bewildered to hear it from a man he had known so little time. 

“You don’t rate his abilities very highly then, Dixon?” He asked cautiously. 

“He has a rather narrow view, when it comes to looking at the bigger picture.” Oscar replied simply, a rare show of diplomacy in his words. “I shan’t speak  _ too _ ill of him to another Captain. Consider it a warning from a friend - I doubt this will be the last time he’ll take issue with your lot.”

“Yes well, we Sappers are used to that.” Theo said. So was he. “Still, I appreciate the warning. I daresay where I can, I ought to go through you instead?”

“Your words, not mine.” But the glint in his eye made it clear that he agreed. “I’ve been told I’m not to get in too much more trouble where I can help it.”

“By your Captain or your wife?” Theo ventured, with something of a smile. 

Oscar chuckled. “Both.” He shoots back. “Though I did promise I’d listen to my wife. I can happily ruffle the feathers of a Captain or five without batting an eye - but I’d sooner saw off my own thumb than actively upset her.”

“Clearly she outranks them.” 

“In my book, easily.” Oscar reached into his left inside pocket, fishing out a photograph that he passed over eagerly. 

It was carefully preserved, folded once neatly through the middle. It held the image of a plump woman, her dark waves of hair pulled carefully back. Her posture was impeccable, but her expression had broken into a loving grin. She had incredibly kind eyes.

“That’s her.” Came the eager commentary. “My Ruth. You can’t tell me you’d have the heart to say no to that?” 

Theodore’s hand instinctively reached up to his breast pocket, the pocket that he knew carried a little photo of his own. He placed his hands firmly upon the table. 

“She looks…” He searched for the words. She looked lovely, and pleasant and graceful but he never found he had the right words to use for women. As luck would have it, on this occasion he didn't need them.

“Ah, don’t let him get started, Sir.” The same man from before, Collins, chose this moment to interject. “He’ll talk all dinner if you  _ let _ him talk. Did the same thing yesterday an’ all..”

Oscar frowned, half startled, the tips of his ears reddening. 

“Lay off, Collins.” He huffed, giving the man a friendly elbow in the side. “If you had a woman, maybe you’d understand.” 

“Hey, I have a girl!”

“Not like her.” Oscar pointed out, with all the loving conceit of a man utterly devoted. He held out his hand, gesturing for Theo to return the photo to him.

“I- She seems like a truly… capital woman.” Theodore blustered, hoping it was something near the right thing to say.

“See, Vincent?” Oscar shot Collins a victorious smirk. “A man of taste, is our Theo. I knew there’d be a reason I liked him.” Oscar’s attention circled back to him once more. “Speaking of good taste, is there anyone special waiting back home for you?”

“Me?” He said, taken aback. People so rarely asked, and when they did, he could never quite get his answer right. Not because he did not know the words to use, but because he hated them. “No. I’m- I have no... attachments.”

Collins scoffed, apparently unimpressed by the brevity of his answer.

“Quite sure, there?” Oscar teased him. 

“I am.” Theodore responded archly. “Quite sure.” Though his heart hurt for it. 

Captain and Lieutenant held each other’s gaze. It lasted only a moment, and it was Dixon himself who broke it. 

“Alright, that’s your business.” Oscar held up his hands. It was quite the good natured surrender. “I’m sure there’s someone for you, Theo, you seem decent enough. Unlike Collins, here, who seems content to bully  _ me _ for loving my own wife.”

And with that, Oscar stowed his photo away, laughing in the face of Collin’s latest good natured gripes. 

Theodore blinked twice in rapid succession, and a slightly incredulous huff of laugher escaped him. He could scarcely believe it, but he was glad he hadn’t taken dinner in his office tonight.

* * *

Throughout the remainder of the week, his office didn’t see a single mealtime. In that time, Theodore came to learn a great many facts about Dixon’s wife - and the odd thing about Oscar himself while he was at it. They were as follows; he did, for all intents and purposes, act more like a captain than his own commanding officer, and half the soldiers in Button House seemed as close to him as a childhood friend might be. Hiis higher ups were a notable exception.

Affable as he was, the amount of time Oscar did find for Theodore was truly surprising. Actually, it seemed an increasing amount of his time was filled by the man, both professionally and otherwise. Perhaps Theodore surprised most at himself, by taking time for the Lieutenant so willingly. It wasn’t how he did things, not usually. Not even when he had been junior enough to have that sort of opportunity. 

Theodore had come from his office to the grounds, ready to inspect the new additions to his company. Reshuffles had left him well staffed enough, but there was room for more, as always. He knew what to be ready for, and it had all been explained to him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to relish it. The men he would be receiving (Boys, as they had been called, or Ex-Boys now) were apprentices; strong, fresh-faced and none out of their teens, ready to learn a trade… and fight in a war, sooner or later. His own Lieutenant stood beside him as the jeeps pulled in, looking a little grey about the face himself, but to be quite honest, he had always had a more sickly pallor. 

He wondered briefly about how to approach the lads. It might help to come off more friendly, but if he knew anything about himself it was that when he was trying to be kind he had the distinct air of a beleaguered history teacher, something that boys in their teens always seemed extraordinarily strong against. Clearly he needed to be calculated in his approach, lest he find himself as overpowered by his men as some Captains he knew were. Not to name names, of course. 

“Ready for them, Newton?” He asked, as if that mattered now. They could hardly send them back, or ask them to just wait in their trucks another half hour while they prepared a better welcoming speech. 

“Yes, sir.” Came the rather distant reply.. That was Newton, as reserved and respectful a Lieutenant as a man could ask for. Theodore knew very little about him, save that he was excellent at chess, and it seemed perfectly agreeable to both of them that things stayed that way.

The transports stopped, and the new boys began to disembark, being lined up smartly on the front lawn by a rather loud corporal, who came with them in much the same way that a houseguest might come with an extremely yappy dog. He matched his men too, short enough to fit in with the boys under his command, and clean shaven. Theodore wondered how old he was really, officer or not. Directing the last of the new boys into formation, he scurried up to Theodore, greeting him with a sharp salute as he met his new Captain. 

“Corporal Vale, sir! Pleased to be working with you sir.” 

Theodore nodded. “At ease, Vale.” Then he stepped forward, regarding his new soldiers, serious and solemn. Done up in their uniforms, some of them managed to look like adults. Most of them did not. Theodore had to be careful- he couldn’t let them unnerve him. No matter what concern he had for them, he could not afford to look weak. Teenagers and soldiers had a rather strong middle ground, in that both of them could smell fear.

“Gentlemen.” He addressed them. “You, like all of us, are gathered here today, to-” 

The sound of shouting broke out from the edge of the field, and Theo’s attention was drawn, losing touch with his own sentence. 

“To fight for this grand country of ours!” He continued, trying to keep the attention of the men. “And to operate tanks!” 

The crescendo of his sentence was cut off again, the angry noises growing ever louder. 

The commotion was encroaching rather loudly over his own voice and, for all Theodore’s ability to stay focused, the attention of his men were being rapidly drawn to it. He frowned, lips pursing. Could there not be a single day that ran smoothly? What on earth could possibly be occurring? 

Theodore stopped in the middle of his speech, his ear taken by the loud discourse. There was at least one voice amidst it that he recognised - not that it caught him too much by surprise. It was Lieutenant Dixon’s.

“Excuse me. I’ll see to this.” He told his new boys confidently, determined to at least not look like an incompetent history teacher if he truly must be one. “Newton, take them through their new duties.” He nodded to his Lieutenant, who looked distinctly displeased, and hurried off, breaking into a rather fast trot as he pursued the sound of shouting.

“How am I being impertinent when this should be common sense?” Oscar’s voice rang out clearly across the grounds. Theodore had much in the way of prior experience, but this was certainly the most riled that he’d seen Oscar to date. 

“How can you be impertinent indeed!” Another voice shot back, louder and a good deal more grating. “These are not your men to command, Dixon! I don’t know what you think you’re capable of getting away with under your Captain-” The man spat. “But when I give an order, I certainly don’t expect to be plagued by smarmy little Lieutenants trying to undermine me!” 

“ _ Plagued _ by-” Oscar cut himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face as though scarcely able to believe what he’d heard. “I’d love nothing more than to just let you get on with it all. Do you even  _ realise _ what you’re suggesting?”

Theodore by this time had caught up to the site of their blowout, and was greeted by the sight of Lieutenant Dixon all but surrounded by leering men, fronted by a rather nasty piece of work that he recognised as Captain Brannagh. 

“What exactly is he suggesting, Dixon?” Theodore asked curtly, already steeped in a frown. 

“That’s nothing to you, Captain Rosenbaum.” Said Brannagh, whom he ignored, looking Oscar full in the face.

“Explosives!” Oscar exploded, truly unable to restrain himself a moment longer. “He wants live grenades to be tested in land we have not been sanctioned to use. That’s people’s lives that you’re risking! I  _ refuse _ to believe I’m the only man willing to take issue with this.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Theodore turned, staring at Brannagh incredulously. “Tell me there’s been a mistake.”

“I’d thank you not to interfere with this matter, Rosenbaum!” Brannagh responded to him with a venomous glare, no doubt cultivated over many years of practice.

“ _ Christ _ .” Oscar cast his gaze to the sky. A futile gesture, though it seemed to Theo it would do little to hurt his chances of finding someone with sense. “Civilians could pass through at any moment! That’s innocent people, and that’s damn worth interfering for. Name me a single good thing that could come of this, by all means!”

“Lieutenant, it is not your place to question the value of an order when given!” Brannagh continued, unabashed by little things like morality or veracity. He was too busy utilising his authority. 

“I think it’s anyone’s place to question an order given when the content of that order is,” Theodore considered his words properly for maximum effect, trying not to let the anger he felt show through too much on his face. “Extremely illegal.” 

Oscar took no such liberties. He had long since passed the state of furious, but something in Brannagh’s last words saw his entire countenance change. He was stiffer, darker, the thin line of his lips crafting a palpable shift in the air. For the first time, the Lieutenant’s height truly could be felt.

If Theodore were Brannagh, and thank the lord that he wasn’t, he would be feeling more than a little afraid right now. 

“ _ Captain _ Brannagh.” He was calm like a fire is hot, and his eyes burned just as intensely. “I became a Lieutenant in under three years, and I didn’t get here because I kept my thoughts to myself. The last man who said that to me followed his orders to a death he’d have otherwise seen coming a mile off, and the civilians here won’t have the luxury of that foresight. Your duty is to serve and  _ protect _ your country, so fucking act like it.”

The Lieutenant hadn’t raised his voice. Its impact was stronger than any bellow. 

“Stand down, Brannagh.” Theodore said, though his words were more to give direction than to command. Brannagh had lost the ability to make cogent thought, flexing and unflexing his fists. “Take all this inside.” He instructed to Brannagh’s men, indicating the crates of thankfully unused grenades. 

The men obliged, along with their apoplectic Captain who stomped back inside. If Brannagh knew his fellow Captain even a little, he was aware that Theodore was not the sort to let things slide. Theodore did not know what standing they would receive, but a public dressing down at the very least might yet improve him, even if he did keep his position. 

Though, Theodore had more pressing things to attend to right now. 

“Dixon.” He said, tapping Oscar gently on the side of his arm. “Come to my office.” 

“What for?” Oscar responded, still drawn up into the giant he was.

“Need to get you a drink, old boy.” Theodore responded, an unexpected term of endearment slipping from his lips. It was not even one of his own. Somehow, he realised, Oscar had slipped far past the ranks of junior officer and, despite Theodore’s own distant nature, there was no way he was not firmly established as a friend. After that shenanigan, blood brothers seemed almost the word.

Whatever the term, the offer seemed to be enough to surprise Oscar into normalcy. He blinked, eyebrows raising, and slipped back into the unassuming posture that was his default.

“Old boy?” He echoed, something of amusement to his stature. “I think I ought to be, sometimes. A drink sounds delightful, I daresay it’s the best suggestion anyone’s made today.”

“Thank God for little mercies, eh?” Theo agreed dryly as they made their way back across the lawn to Button House. “I have a little something special, stashed away for emergencies. Seems like high time to break it out.”

A chuckle. “That’s certainly one way of putting it.” He let out a heavy breath and, otherwise lost for more words, Oscar simply settled for giving his friend a worn look.

They turned down the corridor leading to Theodore’s broom closet turned office, which one had to be careful of missing. If it were not for the plaque on the door with his name, it might not have been there at all. Still, it would serve just fine for a drink with a friend, and Theodore unlocked the door, allowing Oscar in first, before following him in and opening the desk drawer that contained an ill gotten bottle of Scotch Whiskey. Two glasses, too, since if he needed it in the first place he most certainly needed the benefit of a cut crystal glass to look at. The privilege of his disposable income. 

Oscar for his part, elected to utilise the benefits of being behind closed doors in full force. He sank heavily into the chair opposite Theodore’s. His sitting position was off kilter and his head was heavy, for it sank immediately to bury itself in his hands. He only remained down for a moment, but the respite was deeply needed. 

The drink, when offered, was taken with grateful eyes.

“Good work, out there.” Theo raised his glass to his friend before treating himself to a sip, savouring the throaty burn of the drink. 

“Someone has to do it.” Oscar took a much larger sip of his own. More of a gulp, to be honest, though Theo wasn’t keeping score, so to speak.

“Quite.” Theodore agreed. “And a painful slog it is. But someone will thank you for it, down the line.”

“If they don’t dismiss me first.” The smile oscar gave was wan, wry. He shifted so as to face Theo a little better. “Do you know, I don’t actually  _ like  _ to lose my temper. Not to the point I get like that. Always leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Theodore nodded, doing his best to look like he understood- he did, but it was not always as implicit as he would care for it to be.

“In fact, I’d quite happily not say anything at all. I just can’t fathom how a man can be so callous, especially when you’re directly responsible for people. I think I’ve only met two men I could call good Captains and you, Theo, are one of them.”

Theodore smiled at him, genuinely taken aback by Oscar’s statement. Touched, too. 

“I shall keep doing my best to live up to your good opinion of me, then.” He said softly. “I hope you’d be as angry with me as you would be with anyone else if I did something thoughtless.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t hesitate to be.” Oscar assured him, his tone light. “I put a great deal of stock in doing the right thing, so don’t be expecting yourself to get special treatment, Theo.”

A grin. “But men don’t often step in on my behalf in these things, so I expect you’ll be safe in my esteem.” There was a slight pause, in which Oscar turned his gaze to his drink. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Nonsense! It was well deserved.” Theodore insisted, before putting down his own glass, still half full. “Besides, you’re a friend.” He said, hoping the fact that he had gone slightly pink would be put down to the effects of alcohol and not his own bashfulness.

“I am, aren’t I?” Oscar made the questionable decision to finish the rest of his glass in one fell swoop, and set it down a touch heavier than he meant to. “Your good taste knows no bounds.”

Theodore squinted at him. Was he being mocked? Oh, he had set himself on edge with all this unmitigated honesty. He offered Oscar the bottle. 

“Fancy a top up? Though I suppose I shouldn’t give you too much, someone’s bound to need your presence sooner or later.”

He simply received a scowl in response, though it was far from directed at Theo. “Brannagh with some backup, hoping to dismiss me I’ll expect. Or perhaps Phillips had gotten himself into another fix. So nothing new, at least.”

“You live a wild and eventful life, Dixon.” Theodore noted, without malice though perhaps just a tad of amusement. He would not laugh at Oscar, but the constant litany of chaos that followed him about seemed like fair game. “Brannagh can’t touch you though, he’s going to be under enough scrutiny for the next few weeks to keep him more than busy. If they come for you, for any reason, I won’t let them.” He leant back in his chair, something of a twinkle coming into his eye. “Besides, you were clearly acting under my orders, eh?”

Refilling his drink, Oscar found himself once again catching Theo’s gaze. He eyed him carefully.

“Yes.” He responded. “I suppose I was.”

There was a moment of silence, then a slight laugh. “I’ll warn you, though, if he’s anything like my last Captain he’ll make a good go of it.”

“All the better for him to see that he can’t get his way for once, what. Still, I hope you don’t get it too hard from the bastard. He’s certainly a nasty piece of work.”

“Now that’s a sentiment I’ll gladly drink to.”

Their little chat was interrupted by a knock at the door. Theodore took a second, placing the bottle and glasses out of eyesight before allowing his own Lieutenant to enter. 


	2. Poor Fellow

The Captain and the Lieutenant took a stroll through the grounds after dinner, wandering between the number of temporary buildings that had been erected around the stately old house. A small group of men had gathered around the side of the comms hut, smoking together. 

Conversations quietened as they passed, and several of them stubbed out their cigarettes against the wall, before saluting. The two officers passed them by without more than a nod, to their evident relief, more in their own conversation than how the troops spent their meagre downtime. After all, it was a lovely night for a walk. 

A hazy sky lay above them, a blinking patchwork of drifting, dusky clouds unable to blot out the stars. Not all blinking, no, only three stars flashing white green and red. If that wasn’t un-starlike enough, a noise rather uncannily like an engine seemed to be emitting from them. 

“Get a lot of planes flying over here?” Theodore asked, casually enough. 

“Here?” Oscar scratched his neck absently, his lips parted as though it would aid his confounded squint. “ Hardly. Do you think it’s one of ours?”

“Whatever it is, it’s flying very low.” 

His observation was indeed astute. At that altitude, he was doubtful it should clear the hill. A doubt well placed, for the sound of the engine swiftly disappeared. Silence painted over the landscape.Then, the countryside illuminated with tones of red and yellow, towering shapes billowing out in all directions. The shape of a parachuted figure could just be discerned. 

The Captain shivered a little, though it was not cold. 

“Poor fellow.” He murmured. 

Oscar grimaced. “I’d hate to be in his shoes - I do hope he’s alright.” Concern carved his expression, but instinct sent his hand to cover his service revolver. 

He clutched it with an instinctive level of ease. 

“He’ll need checking for sooner rather than later.” He continued. It was more a direction than an observation; he gave an urgent nod towards the wreckage. He would be going to do so, it said, whether his friend joined him or not.

Theo regarded him with a critical eye, but it took only a moment to weight up the odds. Friend or foe, the opportunities that rescuing a live pilot brought were vital. He gave a nod.

The two of them made for the site of the crash. It was not far, less than half a mile along the darkened country roads. A trouble to navigate, had their red-hot pole star not lit the way. 

The smouldering wreckage lay half submerged in an empty field, shards of the left wing littered amongst the scorched grass. What little parachute remained seemed to have melted to the fuselage. The lettering on the side was almost completely covered, only the last letter ‘Z’ still visible. A Typhoon. It was certainly one of theirs, but the pilot has yet to appear.

Oscar put away his revolver. It would be bad form to pull a gun on one of their own, and a likely injured one at that.

Exchanging a nod, they split up in search of whatever remained of the pilot. Oscar took off with a start to the far end of the field, while Thedore jumped the hedge to the next field along. There was only minimal grumbling about his knees. 

A faint light at the base of a towering oak tree caught Oscar’s attention. He sprinted towards it with urgency and immediacy, his legs moving on an instinct that far outstripped conscious thought. Time, and far as he was concerned, could not wait. After all, he had encountered worse fallout from much shorter waits. What greeted him took him completely by surprise. 

Propped up at the base of the grand oak sat a man in pilot’s uniform and a life jacket, surrounded by a sea of broken parachute strings. He looked singed, but otherwise alive. A lit cigarette perched jauntily on his lips. 

Whatever outcomes Oscar had been brewing were swept away by a wave of confoundment and relief. The pilot cheered loudly as he approached.

“Have you found him?” Theo called, peering back over the hedge.

“Seems like it! We’re over by the oak.” Oscar replied, turning back toward the erstwhile pilot. 

“Hullo!” The pilot greeted him with a sooty grin. “Nice night for it.” 

Theodore appeared by Oscar’s shoulder, a sight leafier than before. When he caught sight of the other man he gasped, somewhat breathlessly,

“Are you hurt?” He spoke in a rush of air. It hung in a moment of bewilderment between the three of them.

Then:

“Ted?”

“Theo?” Oscar queried, looking to Theo for an answer.

The Pilot squinted upwards at the two of them, choosing this of all moments to look deeply shocked. “Are we dead? How’d you get here?” 

The Captain stared back. He seemed equally confused about the answer. 

Meanwhile Oscar frowned, his brow knitting and his mind whirring while his mind tried to fill in the gaps. If he’d tried to interrupt, it made little difference. His friend and the pilot were much too wrapped up in each other to notice.

“Freddie? Are you hurt?” The Captain asked gently, seemingly ignoring him. 

“I’m a bit winded.” The pilot complained. Clearly Theo was the only one who got his questions answered. “And this is my last cigarette too.” 

“And I’m not following?” Oscar interjected. He was jovial enough, but the tight lipped nature of his smile managed to undercut it. “I  _ assume _ you know him?”

The Captain turned to look at him, and he had the audacity to look vexed. 

“There’s no need for that, Dixon.” He scolded. “This is Freddie, he’s… an old friend.” 

Freddie held out his hand. 

“Frederick Du Chatelet, Flight Lieutenant. Nice to meet you…” 

Oscar took his hand and shook it, feeling somehow more dazed than their pilot seemed to be. But also, and he could not stress this enough, pitifully out of the loop. 

“Oscar. Lieutenant Oscar Dixon.” 

Theo turned to him for a more private word. 

“We should get him back to base. He doesn’t seem injured but you can never really tell.” 

Oscar nodded. “I wouldn’t have taken anything else for an answer.” 

They were in agreement. Theodore stepped forward and, with no shortage of strain, attempted scooping his peculiar friend up like a bride. 

“I’ll take him.” Oscar offered, but the Captain was unwilling to accept. 

“I’ve got him.” He insisted, mustache positively quivering. “It’s all fine.” 

Freddie smiled, seemingly enjoying himself a lot more than a man who had just bailed out of a crashing plane had any right to.

“Are you sure, Ted?” He patted his friend cheerily on the chest. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.” 

Oscar personally noted that this seemed far from the truth. 

“I’m quite sure.” Theodore insisted nonetheless, straightening up and taking a few strained steps forwards. “You should run ahead, warn the men.”

“Yes, I’ll make sure to let everyone know. Captain Rosenbaum has brought a friend, come quickly! I’d loathe to miss when he drops him!” 

The barb was good natured, but accompanied with a very pointed look. 

The Captain bristled.

Oscar softened, fondly rolling his eyes. “Come on, Theo, he’s already hit the ground once. Let’s get him back together, it’ll be quicker.” 

He sighed heavily. “Alright.” He allowed it. “I suppose it does make sense.” 

“I’m with the Lieutenant on this one.” Freddie agreed. “Though I do feel very special being carried like this.”

“I daresay you’ll feel more special once we’re all inside.” A nod of the head. “Come on, Theo, put him down and I’ll make myself useful.”

“I’m not completely inept.” He insisted, straining a little even then. His pride sharpened his words, and so dug the hole a little deeper. 

“I know, Ted, but I’m tired.” Freddie added, slipping down a little in his arms. “It might just be quicker.” For all his bravado and cheek, he looked exhausted.

“Come along, darling,” Oscar’s expression was the friendly sort of wry. He offered his arm out to Fred. “I’ll help you ice your bruised pride later.”

Freddie took the arm, and Theo lowered him back to his feet, albeit with a face that could sour milk. 

“Gosh, you’re tall.” He said, wobbling a little on his legs and Theodore practically lunged forward to steady him.

“He’s not so tall.” Theo muttered, eye level with his shoulder.

Oscar grappled with him for a moment, before Freddie was in a position where he could more readily be carried. 

“How tall are you, Lieutenant Dixon?” Freddie asked, eyes glittering beneath his goggles. 

“Six foot four.” Said Oscar. He couldn’t be called boastful, but there was an air of self satisfaction to him nonetheless.

“Goodness.” Remarked Freddie. “It’s a wonder I didn’t clip the top of your head with my propellor.”

“If my hair ever thins you’ll be the first to get the blame. Right.” Oscar motioned in the direction of the house. “Shall we? Some time tonight, ideally, I wanted to finish that letter for the afternoon post.”

“Rather.” Agreed Freddie, and with one final, slightly hurt look from his Ted they headed off together as a strange six legged creature towards the house. A Frankenstein of a creature, since two of its legs were significantly longer than the others. Occasionally, Freddie’s legs would lift off the ground entirely, and just drift behind him ineffectually before Oscar made a concerted effort to stoop down a little.

“Is it far to this base of yours?” Freddie wondered aloud, unaffected by the struggles of the two perpendicular men to carry him.

“Not so far.” Theodore reassured him. “We’ll have you back before you know it. What happened up there, anyway? It didn’t look like there was anyone after you.”

“Had to bail out of a dogfight because my fuel levels kept dropping, and I was looking for somewhere to make an emergency landing. There are far too many trees around here, you know.” He said, almost sternly, as if either of them had any hand in the planting of them. 

“Give me a warning next time you plan to drop in, and I’ll buy an axe.” Oscar offered, grinning. 

Freddie laughed, not yet too tired to enjoy jokes. 

“ ‘Fraid I’m not planning to make any more dramatic entrances anytime soon.”

“I should hope not.” Theodore grumbled. “You’ve torn up my nerves enough as it is.”

Freddie shifted over, leaning his head against his shoulder. 

“And mine as well!” He insisted. “Have you ever been tied to a burning parachute, Teddy? It’s not exactly a hobby of mine. Though,” He smiled slightly. “I did forget to bring my lighter, so I suppose it has its perks.” 

“How on earth could you think of smoking at a time like that?” Theodore despaired of him. Frankly Oscar despaired of him too, but he was at least rather amused by his antics.

“I already  _ was _ smoking- it was on fire, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to be wasteful, that’s all.” 

“Well, you could’ve been burnt up! You have to be more responsible in this sort of situation, really Fred.” Theodore responded sourly. He for one seemed unable or perhaps just unwilling to see the funny side.

“But I’m fine!”

“We don’t know that yet.” 

“Argh!” Proclaimed Freddie. “Listen, can’t we have this argument later? If you keep pulling me like that you’ll have my arm out of its socket.”

Theo reddened, the fire in him dimming. “Sorry. He amended, and leaned closer in. 

“This is the house, by the way.” Oscar’s voice was all the more jarring for its lightheartedness.”It really isn’t far when it comes to it. Fortunately for you, there shan’t be any stairs to climb.”

Freddie nodded. “I can stay as close to the ground as possible. Good stuff.” 

They carried him past the guard box, the man on watch familiar enough with the two army officers to let them pass unbothered, and Freddie looked upon Button House for the very first time. A gaggle of onlookers had gathered, watching with interest as they carried the prostrated pilot along the driveway. Freddie winked at them conspiratorially.

“Have the lot of you never seen a pilot?” Oscar asked, shooting the men a lopsided grin. “I know you have for a fact, Smith! You said your brother was in the air force last week - and ‘a dreadful bore’ too.”

“Maybe just none like me.” Freddie suggested, with a tangible air of vanity that could only half be a joke. 

It seemed to Oscar that togged up in all the paraphernalia as he was, he looked almost indistinguishable from any other pilot.

“I  _ hope _ you know you’re still wearing the cap.” If exasperation and concern could be combined, then Oscar had done it, with all the air of a beleaguered father.

“Don't know there, Oz,” A man by the name of Walter joined in. ”I bet it adds to the look.”

“Your goggles are round enough - they look something like this far in.” Smith accompanied his remark with a boyish smirk, and a lewd hand gesture or two against his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d overlook the sex appeal of a singed fly.” Freddie complained. “Philistines.”

“Walt, Vince, knock it off,” Oscar has to fight to repress a smirk. “The poor man’s been through enough tonight. Get the nurse, tell her we have someone who needs looking at.”

“Yes, I need her to tend to my ego. It’s taken a hell of a beating.” Freddie agreed, with the air of a man not nearly so silly as he was.

The Captain snorted. “I don’t think there’s a weapon on earth that could damage that.”

“If anything could, Teddy, it’d be you.” 

The Captain noticed various faces regarding him with amusement, and balked.

“That’s Captain Rosenbaum to you.” He protested, trying to draw himself up straighter.

“Is it really?” Freddie murmured, quiet enough that only the three of them could hear it. “Gosh.” 

It was not far to the infirmary, but the distance was cut even shorter by Oscar’s long strides. No special efforts were made to hurry, those few extra inches merely set a precedent his companions (if unconsciously) felt obligated to match. 

Once there, they were greeted at the door by the on-site nurse, one Esther Taylor, a young woman who looked honestly rather relieved to see them. Though it was to be supposed that news of a plane crash survivor would leave a young nurse rather dreading what she was to see, especially since she would be the one to treat any immediate injuries. It must have been entirely cheering to be presented with a patient in unexpectedly good health. 

Ignoring a flippant greeting from Freddie, she instructed his two rescuers to lay him down on a nearby bed-  _ ‘gently, now’,  _ and politely asked that they leave her to do her job. Theodore looked increasingly like this was more than he could be expected to do, and Oscar found the duty fell upon himself to subtly and firmly steer the man from the sick bay, arm around his shoulder until they could shut the doors to the medical ward behind them. 

A variety of different emotions, chiefest of them anxiety, wove themselves into Theo’s face. They came in such an intensity that Oscar found himself regarding their current situation with increasing curiosity. 

“So, Theo.” He found himself saying. “Should I be calling you ‘Teddy’ too?”

Shaking off his air of disquiet for a second, Theodore blinked up at him with bewilderment. 

“Please tell me you don’t want to.” 

Oscar just shrugged.

“If it’s what all your friends call you.”

Theodore sighed, leaning his body back against the wall as though it was as heavy as lead. 

“No, thank goodness. Just him.”

“Are you old friends then?” Oscar asked, noticing Theo’s face lighten somewhat as he asked.

“I suppose we are now. We knew each other before the war, so I believe that qualifies.” He wore a look that bordered on pride, though it was not quite that. In fact, it was an expression Oscar could not quite define, nor say what had caused it. But whatever it was, it was very much attached.

Perhaps he had noticed Oscar puzzling, for Theo shifted once more. 

“I’ll be waiting here a while, I think. You must have somewhere else to be, I’m sure of it.” He puffed himself up to a more imposing stance. “Go and get some rest, Oscar.” He instructed.

“I don’t  _ mind _ waiting here with you, Theo.” Oscar insisted back, not one to be done away with too easily. “I would like to be sure that he’s really alright.”

“Thank you, Oscar.” Theodore said, running a hand doggedly through his hair, rendering it more rumpled than Oscar had ever seen it. Though less than an hour he had seemed perfectly sprightly, he looked exhausted now. 

“I do appreciate it.” Theo continued. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute alone to my thoughts. Not that I don’t enjoy your company.”

Ready as he had been to insist, Oscar could recognise an honest request for privacy. 

“Alright.” He allowed. “But if you do need me for anything I won’t mind being disturbed.”

They nodded at each other in agreement, and with that, Oscar reluctantly left Theo to tend his post.

Then Theo was alone, the only presences in the hallway being his own and that of the door to the medical ward, which took up space oppressively, a portent of what lay past it. Whatever verdicts were passed, whatever injuries lay unseen became part of its foul, staring identity. What a fearful thing a threshold could be. It reduced him to checking his watch compulsively. Had enough time passed? Would he be interrupting?

As the half hour mark crept up on him, Theodore could bear it no more. Grasping the handle gingerly he admitted himself to the room beyond, and looked around for the nurse. 

Taylor was by no means an imposing woman. She was a short waif of a thing, softly spoken, with mousy hair that never quite wanted to stay in its pins. Yet when she knew she was right - and she often was - she had little appreciation for reckless soldiers pretending to know any better. 

“We’ll be keeping him here for the night at the very least.” She told a very agitated Theodore, arms folded. 

“He’s stable at least?” 

“Nothing wrong with him, so far as I can tell.” She said, busying herself tidying up her desk. “I think any further examination can be left for the morning.”

“But surely that’s taking a risk!” Theodore protested. 

The nurse looked up from her desk, slamming shut a notebook curtly. 

“Are you volunteering to watch him, Captain Rosenbaum?” She bared a steely eyebrow at him. 

The Captain blinked. “Well… yes, actually.” 

Nurse Taylor nodded, and pointed to the door. “Then be my guest. You know where to find me if anything seems off.” 

“Of course.” He agreed, and hurried away through the infirmary door. Once it had been a grand bedroom, now stripped of its finery and whitewashed, with several steel framed beds pushed up against the wall. A necessary precaution given the dangers of training there. 

It would have looked quite empty, if one didn’t know otherwise. Sterile and white, under the dim light of a single lamp, one could just see a face peeking out under the sheets. A halo of brown hair. The Captain stepped in closer, his approach nervous. He knew that seemingly nothing was wrong yet he felt hesitant to approach him, to destroy that moment. He looked like he lay in another world.

The form rolled over to face him, shrouded in white. 

“Awfully considerate of you to get yourself posted right where I needed to crash my plane.” Freddie said, raising a smile. His face looked redder than usual, right up to the indents made by his goggles, which had cut into his face at the edges. Yet still the same face that Theo knew so well.

“I told you not to joke about that.” Theo pursed his lips. It exasperated him to no end to see how lightly Freddie was taking the crash. As if it were a laughing matter. As if Theo didn’t have two nightmares a week that began that same way and ended… Well. He would not think about that.

“I’ll joke if I want, you’re already doing enough fretting for the both of us.” He shot Theodore a very pointed look, which he ignored.

“Somebody has to, since you won’t do it yourself.” Theo frowned.

Freddie scoffed, unmoved. 

“What do you want me to do, eh? Come on old man, tell me! Whimper in fear about going down without a clear landing in sight? Should I snivel? Weep to you about being drawn close to death by my very own parachute? Oh how scary, Theo! Oh! The terror of it all! Do shut up.” 

Freddie threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. Theodore never quite knew what to say to him when he got like this. It stung, honestly. How could he help worrying? Yes, perhaps he had been too crotchety, he so often was. But he could not bring himself to care any less. He turned away, folding in on himself.

“Oh hell, don’t look so sad. I didn’t want to make you sad, you great old fool! Come here.” Freddie beckoned him insistently, so Theodore came to sit on the side of his bed. He raised a hand to run down the side of Freddie’s face, but the boy winced away at his touch. 

“Sorry old man. You have to be careful of me, I’m a little seared.” He reached out a hand of his own, though it too was pink and shiny about the fingertips, and ran it gently through Theo’s hair. 

“I am sorry. I know this is hard for you. I just- I hate you acting like I’m careless! I’m a good pilot, you know! I’m not sure even you could have done anything about a ruptured fuel tank, and you know all your machines so well. I wasn’t being sloppy out there.” His lips formed a determined little line.

“I think you’re mistaking me.” Theodore corrected gently. “You fly beautifully, and you do the best that anyone could in your place. You’re all that. But tonight, you might have…” He bit his lip. “I can’t hide how that shakes me.”

“I didn’t die, though. Here I am, intact and in your arms no less. That’s a reason for joy, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Theodore agreed. 

“You should never question the devil’s luck, Theo. Didn’t you know? That’s how Jerry gets you.”

Theodore nodded. The devil notwithstanding, he knew well enough not to question Freddie. There was so much comfort to be found in how he just was.

“Anyway, to business! Who’s your new boyfriend, eh? Have you been leaving details out of your letters?” Freddie crowed, more than content to make trouble rather than meaningful conversation.

Theo felt himself getting redder every second.

“Boyfriend indeed! You’ve got some imagination, really. Dixon is a very nice chap, but we’re friends, Fred! Friends! Not to mention he’s completely devoted to his wife. I’d never meddle with that.”

“Spose it was too dark to see a ring.” Freddie speculated. “What a specimen, though!” 

“Quite.” Theodore agreed, in a way he only ever would to his Fred. It was nice to think about such things together.

“Shouldn’t be surprised he has a wife. After all, he is very tall.” Freddie continued, thinking aloud.

“Quite.” Theo said again, and though he wasn’t sure it was a very lucid idea Fred was putting out, he didn’t disagree.

“I’m sure he could have carried me to the house like a bride.” He added cheekily.

“Why, I!” Theo gasped at his impertinence, flushing ever deeper. “I could, and I would, if only you’d both let me!”

“We’ve been so cruel to you, Teddy.” Freddie laughed, his face crinkling in an adorable way. Theo was always very weak for him when he laughed. 

Theodore chuckled too. “I’m sure you’d both have found it very funny if I put my back out carrying you here.”

Freddie pressed a finger to his lips. “As if! I’d have been worried about you, giving yourself an injury like that. Well, I’d have laughed a little bit. But that’d be your fault for giving yourself such a comical injury! Really.” He looked down. “It would have kept you in here with me all night, though. So maybe I should have let you carry me after all.”

“I’m staying here tonight anyway.” Theodore smiled. “So you’ve no need to cause me any injuries. I’ll keep watch over you while you sleep.”

Freddie nodded, a little extra colour blossoming in his cheeks. “Kiss me then?”

  


* * *

  


“Afternoon, chaps!” Came Oscar’s jovial greeting, far too chipper for the hour. He clapped a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Sleep well, Theo?” 

The Theo in question grimaced. His shoulder was already aching from a questionable sleeping position, and the pressure from Oscar’s hand served only to aggravate it. The “Quite” he responded with came a tad tersely. 

The clock in Theodore’s office came to reluctantly greet nine o’clock in its usual fashion, illuminated by the small beam of sun peeking determinedly through the curtains. They had been closed when he’d made his way in this morning and he hadn’t the mind to open them. Far more important matters enveloped him: his lack of sleep; the uncomfortable twinge in his shoulder; and, of course, Fred, who seemed to have made it his sworn duty to never sit more than three inches away from him at any given moment. He had insisted on moving the spare chair in the corner over to join Theodore behind the desk, in a maneuver that was not only unprofessional but also deeply distracting. He loomed over like a demented fruit bat every time Theo picked up his pen. 

“Hullo Oscar!” Freddie crowed, grinning at Oscar from his vantage point behind the desk. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

A rather ironic statement to make in such a dark room.

“I wouldn’t know,” Oscar replied. “I can’t presently seem to see it. Have you bolted those curtains down since I was in here last?”

“Wish I had.” Theo muttered, scrawling a lop-sided version of his signature on the top of the document pile. 

Freddie elbowed him. “Come on, old man! A bit of sunlight will do you good!”

“Especially considering you didn’t bother with breakfast.” Oscar sat down by them, electing to perch on the edge of the desk in lieu of any proper seating arrangement. “I was woefully abandoned, had to sit all by myself.”

Theodore sighed. “I’m sorry, Oscar. I’m sure you bore it well enough.”

“Oh, don’t be like that - you should know better than to take me too seriously by now. I didn’t come here to moan about nothing, at any rate. They laid on raspberry jam for us this morning, and a decent amount of it at that. And I thought to myself, Oscar, surely there’s no harm in taking a little more than your share. Especially not for your good friend Theo, who surely would have sulked for a week had he missed it.” 

Once he’d finished amusing himself, Oscar dropped his dramatics in favour of producing a napkin wrapped parcel. He placed it down on Theo’s desk. “It’s probably cold by now, but better than nothing.”

“Oh, Brilliant!” Freddie exclaimed, grabbing the little wrapped bundle and opening it quickly, examining the two pieces of toast Oscar had packed in- jam side facing each other, so that it would not get messy. He poked one of the pieces at Theo’s mouth, who resisted, taking the piece of toast for himself so he could consume it in a less ignoble manner. “Mind if I take one?” He asked. “I’m famished.”

Theodore looked up at Oscar. “If that’s alright with you?” 

“Well it’s not my toast, is it? You can do as you please with it.”

“Thanks.” Freddie said, proceeding to inhale the piece of toast in around three seconds flat, while Theodore took a bite from the outside of his, savouring the flavour. 

“Does the medical wing not feed its residents any more? Best not get myself injured, or they’d have my Ruth on their backs within the day. That said, Fred, you’re looking well enough, I’m impressed.” 

Freddie leaned across the table, resting his head on his hand, grinning like a fox. “Thank you.” He licked his lips. “Your nurse isn’t starving me entirely, I’ll admit. But she didn’t give me any choice, and the portion was so small!” He complained. “I shall have to come with you chaps for meals or I’ll have faded away entirely by the end of the week.”

“A fate worse than death alone.”

“Luckily for you, he’s exaggerating.” Theodore reassured him. 

Oscar nodded, glancing away at the window, just as Theodore appeared to pat his friend gently on the arm. Freddie leaned in as he did so, almost resting his head on the other man’s shoulders, and nearly falling off his chair when Oscar turned around, as Theo retracted his hand. 

“Was there something you needed me for?” He asked simply, looking away as Oscar’s gaze 

“A little more appreciation for how painstakingly I buttered your toast, perhaps. But otherwise, no.”

Theodore smiled at him, which quite caught Oscar off guard. “Make yourself at home, then. I am grateful for this, you know.” He waved his toast in the air appreciatively.

“As am I for coming to my rescue!” Freddie agreed, standing up behind Theodore’s desk and leaning over to extend a hand. “If you two had left me out there I might’ve been taken away by an ambulance or something, and then I’d never even have known you were here!”

“I think we were both worried for something far worse.” Oscar pointed out, but allowed Freddie to grasp his hand nonetheless. 

“But aren’t you glad that it wasn’t?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Freddie,” Thedore said quickly, emphatically as Oscar shook the man’s hand. “I - obviously  _ we’re _ happy to see you in working order. There’s _ no sense in dwelling  _ on what might have been. ” 

The sudden command in their Captain’s voice was unprecedented. Fred turned to him, lips parted in surprise. 

“Oh, Teddy.” Fred simply looked at the man. He made no attempts to move towards him, yet a distinct longing settled in his eyes. “Silly old bear, you know I’m fine! Besides, Beaut’s built out of sterner stuff than you or I, it would have taken far more than a bad landing to leave both of us out of commission. He’d hardly have risked damaging this face, after all.” 

The Captain and the Pilot spent a moment longer in each others’ gaze. No words were exchanged, yet after a moment Theo seemed to wilt, or relax.

Oscar watched the two curiously. He half smiled, and a cog or two began to grind into gear. 

“Right,” He announced. “I do believe I should be off. Not all of us get a day off. If I leave Phillips unattended for too long, I daresay he’ll be putting on airs and graces - or start to fancy himself competent. Enjoy your toast, Theo.”

He bade his leave with a half hearted salute and a grin.

  


* * *

  


It was a warm day, much warmer than the ones that had come before it. Each of the three days since Fred’s crash had been, but this was unseasonably so, even as Summer made its home in the rolling English countryside. It was the type of heat that clung, molded itself to a man until he could scarcely move through the density of it all. It made the thick wool uniforms afforded to each and every one of them more of an indignity, and not a little sweaty. 

Nevertheless, everyone was very proper, top buttons done up properly, apart from a few more junior individuals that nobody seemed capricious enough to reprimand. Those more dishevelled soldiers seemed quite overpowered by the heat, enough that you felt for them, so red about the face as they were.

Still, war waited for no one, least of all for winter to come. It was to be business as usual in Button House, in theory at least. Any duties carried were done so at a half pace. An air of sluggishness permeated the atmosphere. Though the air of clammy malaise seemed to have left at least one man behind.

At some point, some young pilot (naming no names) had realised that due to the nature of military hierarchy he was without oversight, and had taken to wandering about in a state of shirtless dishevelment. It was as enviable as it was frustrating; perhaps it was for the best that only a select few had his mischief had to be focused on. 

The aforementioned man was lying in the long grass, grinning as the Sappers ran exercises next to and around him. The younger ones, the ex-boys, seemed to take it fairly well, barely out of the realm of school sports, and though some of the more long-standing members seemed to fare somewhat worse, they were nonetheless working hard. After all, heat was an evil that had to be borne when working with tanks, or so their Captain had insisted. 

Said Captain was stalwart, and intent on ignoring the young man who waved at him from the grass, though his gaze did seem to be burning a hole right through poor Theodore. He had turned a rather rosy shade of pink. 

Inexplicably agitated as he was, he was nigh shocked out of his skin when Oscar appeared behind him. 

“Dixon!” He said, voice raising three octaves. “What on Earth d’you mean, sneaking up on me like that?”

“Sneaking?” Oscar hid a subtle smile. “I did nothing of the sort. You ought to pay better attention Theo, really. You’ll get flanked.” 

Theo frowned though, really, he had a harder time keeping it in place than one might expect. “That’s hardly how you speak to a superior officer.”

“Simple tactical advice should always be available to those who need it.” Oscar said, tongue in cheek. “Distracted, were you? You had a view of me halfway from the house, if you were bothered to look.”

“Yes, yes! I daresay I focused a little too much now,” Theodore looked around almost bashfully, as his soldiers dutifully continued their task without smirking too much. He lowered his voice. “Need something, Oscar?”

“Well, not as such.” Oscar concluded. “My orders were, as I recall, ‘for pity’s sake, would you go away?’ So I did, and here I am! Ever the loyal soldier! Thought I’d come to see if you needed help with anything.”

“Oh?” Theodore looked at him, eyebrows moving in a little pattern that indicated a great deal of his thought process. “Thank you, Oscar.” He raised his arm and pointed. “For pity's sake, do something about him, will you?”

Oscar’s gaze followed Theo’s arm until it came to it’s target; Fred, in all his bare chested glory. He spent several seconds regarding the man without comment, something unreadable in his eyes. Freddie waved back at him.

“Him.” Oscar echoed, distant and belated. “Quite. Yes.” Oscar cleared his throat, giving a light shake of his head as he straightened back to his full height. “I have to say, Theo, that’s  _ not _ what I expected. I can certainly give a good go of distracting him for you.”

“If it helps, it’ll probably be more fun than anything I’ll be doing today.” Theodore sighed, allowing himself a precious glance over at the man who so clearly was sapping his attention. It looked like a good deal of strength was keeping him from doing Oscar’s appointed task himself.

“Oh, unquestionably.” Oscar agreed. His brow furrowed. “I’m just surprised he doesn’t have something more pressing either.”

Oscar regarded Fred for a moment longer, absentmindedly, and wet his lips. 

“Well.” He announced, suddenly. “I’ll be sure to find him something better to do, at any rate. Don’t let it be said I don’t do anything for you, Theo!” 

A crooked grin, and he was off.

His large strides made the journey a short one, and had the added bonus of making Fred all too aware he was coming.

“Ah, Oscar!” Fred extended his hand in a lazy wave. “Have you come to join me? There’s a dreadfully nice breeze, down here. I can’t imagine how hot it must be for you all, stuck in those dreadful uniforms.”

Oscar chuckled. “Yes, I’d think you’re quite closely acquainted with the struggles of being in uniform - you’re almost under the Sappers’ feet.” 

He loomed over Fred. His gaze flickered over him briefly. Freckled skin against the gentle grass. Oscar wet his lips once more, then gently tapped the toe of his boot against Freddie’s ribs. “You’ve got to lounge somewhere else, you’re going to get in the way.”

“Am I really?” Freddie smiled up at him wanly, utterly unabashed. “Gosh.”

Oscar elected to prod him in the ribs with his metal toecaps a few more times for good measure. “Come on, you terror. Let's leave the nice engineers to their work.”

Freddie stuck his tongue out in a move of distinct irreverence that Oscar almost admired. “Make me.”

Oscar blinked once, his eyebrows raising just slightly before offering out his hand. “Come on, I’ve been given special orders to keep you occupied - and I’m sure there’s something less obtrusive you can do to cool down.” 

Freddie’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about what Teddy was saying, I’m still not going to put a shirt on and that’s final.”

“Makes no difference to me.” Said Oscar, swiftly shrugging with his response. “But let’s find somewhere else to go anyhow. No sense getting sunburnt over what you’re already sporting.”

Oscar waved his hand a little, reemphasising the offer. 

“Alright, then!” Freddie grinned, standing up, even more enviably shirtless now he was closer by. “Nothing to do around here anyway.” He frowned for a second. “I was trying to take photos of Theo and his boys but he took my camera off me!”

“Can’t think why.” Oscar added dryly. 

“Well, come on then! Let’s go.” Freddie turned, directing an unavoidably sultry little wave to Theo as he went. 

Oscar found himself unable to hold back a huff of disbelief. Shaking his head, he followed behind, absently raking damp hair out of his face as he went. 

They wandered around the back of the house, traversing deeper into the house’s impressive grounds, Freddie leading them down a path that was rather nonsensical and indirect regardless of where it was he actually meant to go to. They had wandered around the same swan at least three times now. Oscar had endured it for a time, but it was hot and he was losing some patience, restless without a clear direction.

“Fred,” He said, carefully. “Are you actually going anywhere?”

“Of course not.” He responded. “But we’re a while from the house, so you can probably take your jacket off now.”

Unprecedentedly astute of him. Never one to waste a good opportunity, Oscar was quick to comply. He’d been wanting to unfasten a few more buttons for over an hour, and felt the garment had a much better home slung over his arm. His tie went too, as did the topmost buttons on his shirt. Much better.

“Was that the master plan all along?” He asked, a touch more humour to him as the breeze washed over him. “To gallantly rescue me from my own impending heatstroke?”

“You know me, Oscar. I’m very considerate.” He grasped Oscar’s arm in response, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. “I thought maybe Theo would give in and let those boys of his rest, but it seems not.” 

It had seemed a little harsh to Oscar too, but he did not know Theo to be hard on anyone without good reason. 

“Tanks get very hot on the inside sometimes.” He suggested. “I suppose he’s trying to prepare them.”

“Well, so do planes sometimes but we don’t all go about toasting ourselves readily in preparation! I’d rather take my chances when it happens, wouldn’t you?” 

Oscar’s mouth opened as though to respond - only to rapidly close. “He - oh, I don’t know, Fred, it’s far too hot for this. We both know he’s soft, he ought to let up soon enough.”

“You’d know better than I.” Freddie said with a trace of acrimony. But his face lightened regardless. They had emerged from a small thicket of shrubs and, despite their rather indeterminate route, they had finally reached something worth walking to. 

Oscar watched Freddie’s eyes flare. A smile curled around the man’s lips - then he took control of the moment by shoving Oscar into a bush. “Race you!” 

He set off across the verdant summer grass at a considerable pace, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Oscar to recover his feet and begin thundering along behind him, a thrill racing down his sticky spine as the distance between them closed. 

Freddie yelped out an excited little laugh, putting on an extra burst of speed that seemed more than characteristic for his light, athletic build. Oscar’s legs, however, were just that bit longer, that bit more powerful and as they approached the edge of the lake, the distance disappeared, and Oscar tackled the smaller man clear into the lake. Cold, incredible water gushing over them, submerging them whole. Blissful.

But it wasn’t to last. The enveloping quiet of water rushing by one’s ears, the gentle rays of light hitting the lake’s bed? They were cut through by a tangled flailing of limbs and the sporadic release of air bubbles until both men could claw themselves back to the surface. 

Sound returned to them with a gasp of air and a rush of breath, and then they were spluttering, wiping water from their eyes. 

Freddie was laughing. Then, Oscar realised, so was he. He was swept away so completely in the moment, reality glancing off his broad shoulders. But that was before his foot made contact with a very slippery rock, and he became all too aware of how fully clothed he was. His shoes waterlogged, his shirt was sodden - there was only his jacket safely discarded in the grass beside the lake. He struggled to pull the shoes and socks from his feet, unsteady on one leg, trying to slide them off without even undoing the laces. 

“What are you doing?” Freddie cackled at him when Oscar made a misstepped. He resubmerged himself before managing to remove them, tossing his shoes and socks carelessly onto the verge so as to work at his shirt buttons instead. 

“Knew you wouldn’t be modest enough to keep that on all day.” Freddie watched him, teeth cutting into his lower lip. “Not with a chest like that.” 

Air hissed out between Oscar’s lips, to match the kettle whistle in his brain, feeling beholden in an unfamiliar yet not unpalatable way. But it escaped him soon enough, dispersed with a shake of his head that didn’t quite mask the pink hue of his ears. 

Freddie slapped him enthusiastically on the back. “No wonder you’re married, eh?”

“Exactly!” Oscar smirked in good humour, replying perhaps a touch too quick. “Be glad she didn’t overhear you, I’d hate her to think you’re stealing me away.”

“Don’t know what you mean.” Freddie looked at him with eyes that were all mischief. “Surely she couldn’t begrudge your friends a compliment or two.” 

Oscar looked at him for a moment, the cogs behind his eyes whirring. Then he blinked, and he shook his head, slicking his sodden hair back with a chuckle.

“Yes.” Came his eventual response. It was distant, then stronger. “What _ is _ a compliment or two between friends, eh? You really are something else, Fred, I think I see why Theo likes you so much.” 

Oscar heard Freddie breathe in, softly, and he gave Oscar an unexpectedly sincere look. 

“You too.” He said, looking rather touched. He searched himself for a moment. “I’m glad to know he has such a good friend here.” He looked like he had a great deal more to say, but those lips clamped themselves shut. 

“Well, clearly he has excellent taste.” His words were flippant, but there was a certain warmth to them. Oscar regarded him a touch more kindly than before. 

“Clearly.” Freddie smiled, a little bit of colour returning to their cheeks. “Guess he really knows how to pick us, eh?” 

“Oh, don’t give him too much credit, Fred. Our friendship was  _ entirely _ my doing, don’t let him act otherwise. If he was  _ that  _ good, he’d have picked a pilot prepared for a sneak attack.”

And with that, Oscar dropped down, immediately knocking Fred back into the water.

“Ahhh!!” He shrieked, replaced quickly with “Mmmblugh!”

He thrashed about in the water, trying to wriggle from Oscar’s powerful grip. Oscar only laughed in response, though relented, hauling him back up not a moment later.

“You’re getting rusty, Fred, what with all this sitting about. Maybe you should’ve been running with the Sappers.”

A spot of red appeared around Freddie’s cheeks, and he slithered from the grasp of Oscar’s very credible arms, contriving to splash Oscar even as he was pursued. 

“Rusty indeed!” He responded. “I’ll show you rusty!” 

And so their game had begun. There were no rules, no scores or methods of marking progress; merely mischief, and both men’s abstract desires to win. Freddie and Oscar chased each other back and forth through the lake, sometimes diving, sometimes knocking each other down and into the water. Neither of them remained dry for long, to the point where getting soaked could no longer be the fun of it. Somewhere along the line they joined forces, finding themselves more content to make the most of being unwatched, uninterrupted. For a moment, they could harken back to some of the youth they’d set down in favour of wings and army boots, of fighting another man’s war. It reminded Oscar, in a way that rather startled him, how young he still was. Though he hadn’t the time nor inclination to be maudlin about it! 

Oscar felt himself being latched onto by a collection of wet limbs, and Freddie clung tightly to his torso, hanging over the top of his head like some demented limpet. If he were to tolerate this bedraggled hanger-on, he could at least make the little beast work for it! He emerged from the lake like some crazed monster from the deeps, draped all over with pondweed, with the young man of the sea still attached limpet-like to his back. 

Laughing, Oscar simply held tighter around Freddie’s knees, holding him in place as he ran, and (for risk of sounding twee) frollicked about on the grassy verge, immersed in hot sunlight, childish enjoyment, and the water on their skin . 

“Well now! I wondered what you rogues were getting up to.” A voice called cheerfully from behind them. The sound of it had Oscar turn, almost tossing Freddie from his shoulders as he did so. 

“Theo!” Called Oscar, just as a bright call of “Teddy!” Resounded from Fred. 

“Thought I’d let the lads have the afternoon to themselves. I’m sure they’ll learn better for having gotten some rest.” Theo leant against one of the proud oaks, in a moment of unusual poise and gaiety, the top buttons of his shirt open, unusual in context of his usually fastidious appearance. 

“Told you so.” Oscar tugged on Freddie’s leg, and Freddie ran a hand through his damp hair, ruffling it all up in response. 

“So you did.” He leant down over Oscar’s head, upside down and beamed at him. As he raised his head again, a cry rang out.

“Stop right there!” Theodore ordered, holding up a very insistent finger. 

Oscar froze on the spot, and Freddie wafted over his head, wavering in what was almost stillness but not quite. Theodore hurriedly retrieved the rangefinder camera he had confiscated some hours ago from his pocket. 

“Just another second!” He assured them, twiddling with the lens on the front. 

“Hey, that’s my camera!” Freddie called over to him, full of unfelt indignation. 

“Fred, I said to stay still!” Theodore exclaimed. “You’ll be all blurred.”

“I always am!” Freddie responded, with a cheery tone.

Oscar couldn’t help but laugh. They seemed such tremendously happy fools, so wrapped up in the moment and in each other, without even a bare hint of perspective. Separate from this conflict, but not from each other, and Oscar reckoned he understood it, what lay between those two men. He could have teased them for the sweetness of it. But he was content enough to just enjoy the blissful naivety that lay around all three of them. 

“Now you’re both moving!” Theodore responded indignantly. He glanced over his shoulder, seemingly distracted by something. “Good lord, look at that…”

“What?” Oscar responded, as both he and Freddie stopped, peering curiously into the trees behind Theo, deeply intrigued. 

“Brilliant.” Theodore said, with a most uncharacteristically rakish grin peeking from below his moustache. “You can look away now, there’s nothing there.”

Freddie spluttered. “What? Ted-”

“It got you to stay still, didn’t it?”

“Oh, but at what cost?” Oscar then tutted, regarding Theo with faux disappointment. “Betraying your own men, Theo, I never thought I’d see the day. Clearly, justice must be served.” He glanced up. “What do you think, Fred?” 

“Without doubt!” Freddie agreed. “Playing such a cruel trick on his own friends! A man ought to be punished for that.” 

Oscar lowered Fred from his shoulders, the two of them advancing rather menacingly on Theo, who looked more bemused than rightfully afraid. 

“Alright, alright!” He relented. “Just let me put down the camera before you hooligans wreck it by mistake.” 

He laid it down neatly by the foot of the grand oak, atop his jacket, which he shrugged from his shoulders, looking bizarrely naked without, though still in a far more respectable manner of dress than either of his two companions. Without further ado he joined the fray. 

  


* * *

  


A week now had passed, since a once beautiful Typhoon 1B had ingratiated itself into the landmarks of Button House. Scorched and still with an acrid smell lingering about it, the proud Tiffy was a talking point for many of the local inhabitants, as well as for the many soldiers who called Button House their temporary home. But, eager to salvage what they could of it, a small crew was to be sent out next morning to retrieve any parts that might still be used. 

It lurked at the back of Freddie’s mind just as Freddie lurked in the queue for food.

But he would not think meaningful thoughts if he could help it. Far better to spend his time scoping out the watery mashed potatoes that their long suffering dinner ladies slopped onto a plate. God, he missed good food. No matter where he went, nor how much he paid it lay beyond his grasp these days. Still, he was not a fussy man, so he would take what he could. And if what he could take was a second helping of watery mash and what was generously being described as ‘lamb’? Then he would take it just the same. He allowed a smooth wink to the dinner lady, who made a concerted effort not to look affected by it. Her cheek pinkened a little. Call him a cad for being so utterly disinterested, but even so it was useful to have a way with women. Just so long as he kept them at an expedient distance. 

Just like so. He swung away from the dinner service, smiling in a way that came more easily to him than it should. Theo was too busy tonight, hunched over his paperwork like some great punctilious vulture. But Fred could be busy too. He would find himself a place to be. And that was here. He set his tray down decidedly beside Oscar’s, figures parting to let him into the table. 

Oscar looked up, blinking away from the dregs of a conversation with the man to his right. 

“As you were.” He grinned at the man as he glanced up. 

“Fred.” Oscar gave him a wry look. “I heard a rumour you were leaving tonight.”

“So ready to have me gone, eh?” Freddie smirked at him in a way that was perhaps slightly less friendly than it should have been. “No luck, you’ll be suffering me a while yet.”

Oscar chuckled. It was short, and forced. He sank quickly back into silence, jaw set. Cogs were clearly whirring, working the words over in his mind before they were voiced. An annoying juncture for him to become contemplative. 

“Fred,” He spoke carefully, and in a manner largely unlike himself. “Miss Taylor would surely have my head for assuming, but you do seem rather healed to me. There can’t be many more sick days for you to wean out of this one.”

Freddie scooped as much food as he could manage onto his fork, chewing it gravely. It did not taste, on any level, good. Being as it was, entirely composed of low grade, poorly cooked ingredients and sadness. He swallowed it down with gusto, wilfully ignoring his companion. What a pity he had chosen tonight to ask questions. 

“You do want me gone, don’t you?” He waggled an eyebrow at Oscar, jauntily. “You know, you could just say.” He expressed, aura of wounded pride clouding him mordantly.

“Oh, don’t.” Oscar sighed. “I’m not saying it personally-”

“What, then? Professional curiosity?”

“Yes, actually.” He had started to frown, if only a little. “In a  _ fashion _ , at least. I’d like to consider us friends, Fred, but you aren’t doing your job anymore, are you?”

“Hah!” Freddie snorted. “You know you’re worse than Ted, really you are! What do you know about my job, Oscar? Care to tell me how to act like a good little pilot?” He shovelled another mouthful of unpleasant food into his mouth, leering caustically. 

“I’m telling you that you ought to be  _ there _ .” Oscar’s attitude instantly rose up to clash, the sparks setting his temper to burn righteously. “This war is a team effort - there are thousands of men out there risking their lives, hell, there are children doing their bit and how have you spent your week?”

Freddie bared his teeth at him in what was no longer a smile. “Air Force shouldn’t be so lenient with me then, should they? If they’re not careful, I’ll spend a few days resting and recovering amongst friends and we couldn’t have that!” He thudded his fork down against the table, grasped tight in his lean, wiry hand, curled til the fingers turned white. “Spare me your morality one more night, won’t you? There’s plenty of time for you to practice your didactics yet.” He snarled. 

“For Christ's sake!” Oscar’s words were sharp in his knee jerk response, yet even as he spoke them something in his gaze began to soften. His fist had clenched somewhere along the way, so he loosened it, defaulting to let it rake through his hair. “That’s - look, I obviously didn’t mean  _ that _ , did I?”

The fork dropped from Freddie’s hand, clattering against the table. 

“Would you look at that?” Freddie observed. “You’ve made me lose my appetite. What a rare skill.” With no care for his tray, the table, or any more buggering etiquette rules he stood up, sliding his legs neatly over the bench he sat at. It was true, his desire for food felt as distant as his desire for company, faded to a small, angry corner of his mind. Ignoring Oscar’s protestations, he slipped away through the buzzing crowd, some of whom watched him. The rest were busy at least with their own lives, enough so that his own could hold no morbid curiosity for them. 

He was in one of the dark, faded corridors when Dixon’s footsteps echoed from his mind into reality. There was a mirror that he had stopped to look into, and he could not help it, he was transfixed. Like Narcissus, but instead unable to tear his gaze from the long thin scabs that had formed over the slits dug by his goggles. He was confident that they were going to scar, and he felt it beat into his heart, like a thin knife that dug deeper. This face was not perfect anymore.

“Fred!” Oscar swiftly closed the gap between him. His initial anger had gone, replaced by a more pleading tone. “Do listen to me, just for a moment.”

He came to a stop beside the man and, when Oscar received no response, turned his gaze to follow Freddie’s own. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, silently observing each other’s reflections. 

“What do you want to say, Oscar?” Freddie replied grimly. “Can there really be more?”

“Just an apology, really.” He admitted. His gaze shifted, landing on the man this side. “I wasn’t being fair to you.”

“D’you think I deserve an apology, then?” He breathed, countenance fixed into a grim little smile. “I don’t. You got me, just as you said.” He breathed. “But tell me this. Do you fight because you love? Or are the two things different?”

Oscar blinked. The question unsettled him, or perhaps confused him - his expression suggested both and neither. “I- come on, don’t ask me that sort of question, I don’t even know what diadactics means.” His gaze flickered between Fred and his reflection and, after a moment’s deliberation, he nudged Fred out of the way of the mirror’s reach. “I  _ am _ going to apologise, because I feel terrible and, frankly, don’t agree with what I said anymore. I _ was _ being unfair.”

Freddie let out a very gentle exhalation of air. He nodded. 

“I’ll take you for what you say now, then.” He hummed something to himself, a gentle three notes of something indistinguishable. It muffled into the carpeting of the corridor, soon to be lost in the sands and grit of time. “At least you have the nerve to say these things. Can I ask you something else, since you didn’t like my question?”

Oscar frowned, moreso thoughtfully than with malice. “I suppose so,”

Freddie nodded, and if he showed it he did not know but he felt weak. 

“Six planes sounds like too many, doesn’t it?” He asked, even though it felt more like a sickness than a question. As though it were not rhetorical. As if he would not discard an answer that did not sit right. 

Oscar, at first, remained silent. Several expressions flickered across his face, nebulous, until they stopped. He settled on something deep, a profound sort of sadness that rang truly from his core.

“Oh, Fred.” He did not give an answer, because as much as he searched himself there was  none to give. 

Oscar instead reached out, resting his hand on what he hoped was the unharmed shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze. It stretched out for three long seconds until, unable to contain himself, he pulled Fred into an encompassing hug.

Freddie stood in the embrace, feeling the sensation about his chest and shoulders. So little distance between them… and yet. 

“It feels like too many.” He allowed the words to escape him. “That’s five for near misses. One in Macready’s VL-D, but he laid Beaut 3 out somewhere over Calais so we’re still even.” He took a moment to breathe. Then he spoke, more forcefully than before. “There won’t be a seventh plane.”

“You can’t know that.” Oscar uttered, so close to his ear that he could feel that careful breath.

Freddie chuckled lightly to himself. “I’ll take that bet. These bones of mine know planes like yours know your wife.”

“Not in  _ all _ the ways I know my wife, I hope.” His teasing was gentle, and well received. The man would draw another sly grin out of him yet.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to install such lofty opinions of myself in you, Oz.” Freddie’s tongue made a sly exit from between his teeth, though Oscar could not see it. “How biblically have you known your wife, eh?” 

That got a laugh from Oscar, despite his lightly disturbed expression. “I suppose that explains your naming them all  _ Beaut _ , at any rate.” 

“What can I say? They’re each of them perfect beauties. Planes are the most beautiful things on earth, Oscar, and they’re the most terrible things we do to ourselves. How couldn’t I love them?”

“Ah, now you’re starting to sound like Theo. Is it prolonged exposure? Ought I start watching myself around my revolver?”

Oscar released Fred from his grip, returning him back to a sensible arm’s length away. 

“I  _ am _ sorry about earlier.” He reiterated, utterly sincere.

Fred fixed him with a puzzling smile- that was, puzzling in its nature anyhow. He would not claim to know what it meant. 

“It’s alright.” He assured Oscar, hand finding one last comforting purchase about his arm. “What would you think of anyone who’d choose to act like I do? Perhaps I have lingered too long. I do know it can’t be forever- I’ve enjoyed myself too much by far. But I’ll go back satisfied and I’ll see my new plane with clear eyes. That’s enough to make it worthwhile.”

“If I’d have been in your position, they’d have had hell convincing me to stay the night once I felt right enough.” Oscar told him. “I’ve never been able to understand how a man can sit back - but I think that-”

He paused. Something in his gaze, if for a moment, seemed to echo Fred’s own.

“You know, I think that Theo should be in his office still, at this time. It’s late enough that he shouldn’t grumble too harshly about being disturbed.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow at him, his suggestion seeming rather piercingly candid. Not that Fred had reason for complaint. 

“I’ll see if it’s in me to disturb him.” He admitted so many more things than the words permitted. “He might just be as tired as I’ve gotten to be. And if he is, someone needs to take him away from that desk.”

“Someone always needs to get him away from that desk.” Oscar reasoned. “Sometimes I think he might sleep there if the right mood struck him. But," he continued, a wry humour about him. "that’s going to have to be your problem tonight; it’s come to my attention that I urgently need to familiarise my revolver with the Bible.”

Freddie bit his lip, concealing a giggle and finding within it the much needed drive to be a menace. “I’ll take my cue then! Enjoy Sodom and Gomorrah.”

With an appropriately wicked look he started off down the corridor, sparing a wave to Oscar as they parted. And for what it was worth, he counted himself glad for the conversation. Perhaps it was just him, but he felt like he knew his duty all the better for it. 

  


* * *

  


The sun took up its post in a punctual manner, ever reliable in its slow and steady march up from the horizon. Time stopped for no man, for it was its nature to be as fleeting as it is precious, and so nature progressed along with it. Each feeble ray roused another from fitful dreams of peace or home - and invariably shed its light upon the reality of the world.

It was very fucking unfair, if you asked Fred, for such a dreadful day to have so much sunshine. He sighed, not mindful enough to suppress it as he leant into his companion’s side. They’d been awake for some time now, neither fully able to rest, however much they needed it, and instead had elected to wait out the sunrise. It seemed foolish, to tarry so with so little time to spare between them, yet how could they resist it? Bodies did not yield their needs even when the hearts they carried hurt more.

Freddie had nuzzled his head up onto his Ted’s chest, content to watch the sunrise while away his precious minutes as the steady thrum of a heartbeat lulled him into a groggy sort of acceptance. It was strange, how the feeling of warm skin against one’s own could reinforce you against so many worldly evils. He could not yearn for more than this. He only ever wanted the time to enjoy it. Perhaps, if he had it, there could be room in his soul to want anything else.

“It’s barely dawn, there’s time yet.” It was as though his thoughts were being answered. Theodore’s voice rumbled in his chest, low and grumbling from a lack of proper use. It was unlike his usual tones, thick and velvety, a more private expression. Yet it was his Theo all the same. 

Fred blinked up at him, and came to the conclusion he liked this Theo the most, if only by virtue of being the only one allowed to see him. 

“Hours, yet.” Freddie replied in a way that was not quite agreement or denial. It lived in that uncomfortable space where true statements lived, neither one way you wanted them or the other. 

He felt Theo kiss the top of his head, and moved so he could look at him properly. He was almost smiling, lips still softened and pink from how much Fred had kissed him, and his moustache was a mess. The whole world lay below his tired eyes. Those eyes had bewitched him from the very start. They were honest, and Freddie had noticed how they trailed him everywhere long before he could put words to what that meant to him. They watched him now. Five years almost to the day since he had seen them first and they ever continued to be the kindest eyes he had ever seen.

Freddie could not resist him, even should he have wanted to. Temptation had always been his vice. Or perhaps it was just Teddy. To him, they sounded the same. He propped himself up on an elbow, moving his head in closer. It was appreciated, and seconds later he felt himself swept up into a lazy kiss.

Freddie let out an easy purr into it, unashamed of himself as he knew he could be. Their eyes met.

“You know, we could make this morning go by much faster.” Freddie mused, pawing gratuitously at his lover’s chest. 

Theodore smiled back at him, but what lay in his expression was not lust and Freddie knew it. 

“I’ll take the long road with you, if that's quite alright.” He said simply.

When he said it like that, Freddie couldn’t think of feeling any other way.

“Whatever you’d ask of me, old man.” 

They took it with an eager sort of tenderness, letting the hours stretch and distort in ways they could pretend were endless. If each second were a kiss, The Captain and his Pilot had sewn a pocket of forever into the seams of their bedsheets. It was safe and it was familiar. It would keep them warm long after the bed lay cold, and the heat of shared bodies was left behind. 

It lingered about Freddie’s body even as he watched his lover dress, remake himself as a pristine, uniformed thing as he lay beside shrouded in bedsheets. As he left to see to his men. As he left his most important one behind him.

Time stopped for no man, and War? War was just as unkind. With Time, Freddie too found himself placing the shirt back on his back, ignoring the rumples and making himself neat. He dressed slowly and at his leisure, fingers wrapping around and around the silk scarf that decorated his uniform, most precious component of them all. His birthday gift. Then he was bare no longer - not corporeally, at least - which was all that could be legally enforced. So he was ready enough. He took a few minutes to wander about Theo’s little room, since he had a few more, searching for things that would not be missed. He settled upon a discarded moustache comb to slide into his breast pocket. It missed seven of its teeth, but it fit perfectly; another piece of home to distract him as he made his way back. 

That was it. He left nothing behind, just as he had arrived, and he pulled the door gently to a close, preserving the room as it had been when Teddy was in it, his final memento of Button House. 

Everything moved quicker once he had left the room. Time, which had paused for him, reared its ugly head again and despite the early hour, the hallways and rooms of Button House thrummed with people, and movement. His anchor gone, it dragged him along with the rest of them.

Hours were all but blinked away, his moments slipping through his fingers faster than any sands ever could. The nurse berated him for his mysterious absence over the night, for which he only offered an apologetic shrug. He could not wrangle charm from his veins to please her. Not today. It hardly mattered to him; he knew he would not see her again. With a clean bill of health declared, he made a late entrance at breakfast. Halfway out the door, Oscar waved to him and he waved back, at once disappointed and relieved at how fleetingly they drifted past each other’s lives. Everything was unnecessarily complicated in his mind now, which annoyed him to no end over his gloopy porridge. At least he spared himself the trouble of conversation.

And then Time dictated he must take his leave, signalled by the deadly black Hispano-Suiza pulling up into the grounds. Freddie wrinkled his nose as it passed the gate house and slid up the driveway towards him. It certainly wasn’t what he had expected. 

A familiar head with slicked back hair and a thin moustache poked out of the driver side window and waved at him. Really, he should have guessed. He only knew one man who’d dare to drive something that shiny four years into a war; a tiny, sharp-eyed bastard.

“DC!” He called. “Thought you’d given me the slip?”

Freddie snorted despite himself. He sat up from his sad perch on the lip of the fountain. 

“I can dream, can’t I?” He replied in kind.

Kingsley disembarked his car, before throwing himself wholeheartedly into Freddie’s arms, catching him completely off guard. He had to swerve slightly to keep the little man from bashing his head. For all that his arms were so short, they had a surprisingly strong grasp.

“Nearly shat myself when they told me you hadn’t come home. You slippery little fucker.” Kingsley squeezed him just that bit tighter. “We really thought the worst back there, you know.”

Freddie left out a breath from his chest as Kingsley slowly compressed it. 

“So did I, for a while.” He admitted, something he could only admit to another pilot. “Almost got crisped up in my own parachute. You’d have sworn they’d soaked it in brandy before they gave it to me.” 

Kingsley pulled away, to hold Freddie’s head in his hands and eyed him carefully. 

“You don’t look too much the worse for wear, at least. Why did they keep you? Smoke inhalation? Did you hit your head again?”

Freddie shook his head free of Kingsley’s strangely motherly grasp. 

“Told the nurse I was getting dizzy spells.” 

Kingsley raised one meticulous eyebrow. Freddie had always wondered if he plucked them.

“And were you?”

“No more than happens when I try to think intellectually.” He smiled wispily. 

Kingsley’s face grew concerned, folding into a more sober shape. You could tell when he was worried, because his lip twitched to the right. Freddie wished he did not see it.

“Then why, Fred?”

Freddie looked away from him, face heated by a combination of annoyance and shame. 

“Ted’s here.” He mumbled.

Kingsley made his way through a brief yet complex range of expressions, before settling on one of rather tired acceptance. 

“No wonder Chieffy couldn’t get you to shift. You’ve really got some luck then, crashing right over him. Unless…?”

“I didn’t plan it!” Freddie grinned. “How mad do you think I am, eh? I’d do a lot of things for love but that’s out of the question!”

“Now, I was going to suggest he was following you! Though now that I think about it, it does seem impractical.”

Freddie nodded inanely. He wavered for a second, as Kingsley sat beside him, perching at the edge of the overgrown fountain. There was a thought that hammered against the sides of his mind, again and again until it beat him like a drum. Then, he realised he had already begun to speak it.

“Don’t make me leave, Maxie.” 

The words hung in the air between them, along with the burning carcass of a fighter plane and a quickly disintegrating parachute. Perhaps you could have described them as haunted. Truly, Freddie already was.

Kingsley sighed. 

“You know you’d come back home.” he said.” Even if I left you here. I don’t have the power to let you stay. But what I can do,” He pointed back at his car, and no doubt it was his car, slick and powerful and gleaming like a hearse. “is let you drive her. I brought her along specially for you and I promise you, she’s a magnificent ride.”

Freddie nodded, ignoring the tears that forced their way out of him. He had never been afraid to cry, and in this instance he was no different. In a friend’s company, sitting by the fountain of a building he would never see - there were few better places to do so. It was just a shame that fear was not his obstacle. 

All the tears he had to give could not halt the clocks longer, or convince this damned war to cease more swiftly. Had tears been all he’d have to give, Freddie would have cried himself dry. But he could not, and so he didn’t. Instead he breathed, a shivery exhale cool enough to freeze it all in place. They might be better spent yet. 

“Alright.” He said. That was all.

It hung in the air, thick enough to cut through. Neither pilot found themselves wanting for thinner air just yet and so in it they remained, allowing themselves some dutiless seconds to breathe. 

And seconds were all they could have. The sound of bickering reverberated from somewhere, and Freddie turned around, as a heated conversation rose, and then fell momentarily, upon the front door of Button House. Because Freddie was looking at them, and now they were looking at him too. 

He raised a hand to wave weakly at the two men who had come to see him off.

“There was no wine to spare, you know, to break on the hull for the occasion.” Oscar indicated to the boot of the car. “So as far as send offs go, the two of us will have to do.”

Freddie stood up, just as Kingsley in his turn slid smoothly to his feet and saluted, a brief reminder to Freddie that he really was meant to salute when Theodore came into a room. It was easily forgotten.

“Captain Rosenbaum, how nice of you to come.” Kingsley smiled at him briefly, before swiftly turning his attention to Oscar. He held out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting?”

Oscar strode over to where they were standing, taking him by the hand and shaking it firmly. 

“Lieutenant Dixon.” He informed him with a smile. 

Kingsley slipped him one of his most infamous looks. “Charmed. Maximillian Kingsley, Flying Officer. I’m sure I should be thanking you for taking care of poor Fred here.” He looked up at the Lieutenant with glowing eyes.

Fred would have kicked him for his nerve, but as it was, his attention was held by one man only. Like in a dream, Theo hesitated, just out of arm's reach. Like he was something Freddie’s heart had made up in some wild sleeping passion. Like a man who could not live.

Though the odds seemed high that he would fade away like smoke, Freddie took one step closer to him, and then another. Then a hand reached out for him. It closed the distance, and Freddie took it in his own, feeling its warmth heat him up. He felt the veins on the back of it, that stood just a little raised, for it was not a young man’s hand, and he felt the short scar on the underside of the thumb from an injury he had never recounted. He realised this was probably meant to be a handshake, and then refused to care about that fact. He was hamstrung by clandestine fondness, his love denying the expression of itself while they might be looked upon by so many eyes. It could not stop him from squeezing that hand tighter. 

“I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you, Teddy.” He said, voice a bare whisper. “So keep yourself well for me when I get back.”

Theodore nodded. It was a little gesture, but when Fred saw those eyes, when he saw the way they spoke, he would not begrudge the silence. For there were still words in it.

It was with reluctance that they parted, and Freddie let that hand slip from his own. When he looked away, he noticed that everything was silent, and that Oscar and Kingsley were both watching them. 

Freddie could only be thankful that Oscar didn’t appear to notice the atmosphere that had been created. His expression changed faster than Fred could place it, morphing into a warm and lopsided grin. The man held out his hand, shaking it briskly. 

“I do hope the next time I see you will be on purpose.” He quipped. With his words came an apparent change of heart, for Fred swiftly found himself tugged into a loose, one armed hug.

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him.” Oscar assured him, quietly enough for just the two of them to hear. “Just keep that seventh plane in good condition for us all.”

He pulled away not a moment later, and Freddie felt himself wilt again. If he was not careful he’d become just as weepy when they got him back to base. Silly old fool, he repeated to himself. Silly old fool.

“Maybe it’ll be magic like a seventh son.” He smiled. “Take care of yourself too, Oscar. And the next time I drop in on you, be sure to duck just in case.”

That earned him a laugh, and a smile that didn’t quite reach Oscar’s eyes.

“Yes, do take care, I’d hate for this to be our only meeting.” Kingsley added, lasciviously caressing the Lieutenant with his eyes. For what it was worth, Freddie really did admire the man’s spine, for it must have been made of brass. Seemingly enough, there was no harm in it, and Oscar laughed it off, though his ears did tinge pink.

“Come on, Fred.” Kingsley said kindly, with one last backward glance, and placing an arm around his back, steered him gently to the car and into the driver's seat. And surely enough, once he turned the key in the ignition, and felt the powerful thrum of the engine reverberate through the steering wheel and into his living fingers, it was enough. His thoughts and feelings were his own, but an outer observer would not see him look back, at least. He had the mirror for that. 

The Captain and the Lieutenant watched them go. 

Oscar turned his gaze once he was out of sight, watching Theo carefully. 

“That felt better, didn’t it?” He asked him. 

Theodore harrumphed gingerly.

“Dear Lord, you sound like my dentist.” He complained quietly, and without force.

“Well, getting you out here  _ was _ rather like pulling teeth.” Oscar agreed pointedly. He slipped his hands into his pockets.

Theo nodded, and his brow furrowed, entering into a deep contention over something kept entirely within. But he relented.

“Then I’m glad I have you around to drag me about after my own heart.” He said, and the words seemed to dry out his mouth, honesty in sand. This was not in his nature.

There was a moment of silence. It thudded jarringly between the two of them, perhaps in Theodore’s mind only, with the pummell of a pulse.

“Thank you.” He said.

For his part, Oscar only smiled. “I’m rather good at getting my way with stubborn Captains, you see.” He responded. “I just knew that, had my Ruth not seen me off proper when I was sent to France, I would have been rather disappointed.”

Theodore nodded, the beating rhythm of time in his mind soothed by Oscar’s words. Just hearing the two things be compared, it felt like righteousness incarnate. It emboldened him. A lump had appeared at the back of his throat, but wouldn’t dare ventre further. It remained in place, lodged behind a look that was despair tinged in happiness, and that stayed behind his moustache. 

“Couldn’t send my boy away without a proper goodbye.” He murmured, the words caught under his breath. “He doesn’t look right without a smile.”

“He certainly doesn’t.”

In that second, Theo could believe that Oscar truly understood everything. He leant a hand against the man’s strong shoulder to steady himself.

“How do you bear leaving her?” He asked.

It was several seconds before Oscar could offer a response.

“Do you know something, Theo? I’m not sure I do.” He pursed his lips, squinting back off to the point at which Fred had disappeared. “Just find new lists of jobs to be done between each visit. You’d like her, I think. You both shake your heads when I’m being particularly ridiculous.”

“Someone has to do it.”

“Ah, everyone likes to take the wrong things seriously these days. Somebody has to do something about it.” His lopsided grin was back, and so Oscar turned to Theo once again. “Come on then, old man, we have a job to do.”


End file.
